The Edge of Heaven
by Laura Picken
Summary: A tracer is murdered on a training run, and Beckett, Ryan and Esposito dive headfirst into the Parkour subculture of New York City to catch his killer. Meanwhile, the Parkour world is abuzz with sightings of a superhuman-looking trio of tracers that people have dubbed the Dark Angels...Continues the "Four Winds" series.
1. Chapter 1

Four Winds: The Edge of Heaven  
A Castle Fantasy AU  
By Laura Picken

This story is in the continuing series of Castle fan fiction based on my fantasy alternate universe story "Four Winds". If you want to read the story, click on my author page, otherwise, here's a quick summary: Castle, Beckett, Lanie, Esposito and Ryan are struck by ball lighting in the loft on a dark and stormy poker night and wind up with superpowers: Ryan's a powerful telepath, Esposito can get your entire life story by shaking your hand, Beckett has five super-heightened senses and can speak to the dead, Lanie can heal the living by touch, and Castle's a wizard. There's other scattered abilities here and there, but that's the basic gist of it. Not freaked out by the concept yet? Then read on and enjoy :-).

For very loose timeline purposes, Castle fans can place this somewhere in the post-"Always" future: Castle and Beckett are a firmly established couple, Beckett's back on the force and Ryan has fought his way out of the doghouse. Season five might make it into the canon of this series if I'm still writing it in September, but right now I make no promises.

DISCLAIMER: Castle, Beckett, et al. are property of Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC. The legends described herein are inventions of my own twisted imagination and should not be taken to reflect the traditions of any particular group. All non-English language phrases are courtesy of Google Translate, so please forgive me if I get anything unintentionally wrong. And one more warning: this is a FANTASY fan fiction story set within the Parkour subculture. Anything I describe the Guardians or Dark Angels as being capable of doing would cause serious injury or *death* (with death being much more likely) if some moron decided they could do it in real life. So please, kids, do *not* try anything you read here at home.

Okay, enough business, let the adventure begin!

* * *

Kate Beckett paced the roof of her apartment building. It was bitterly cold; she stomped her feet to keep warm as she blew out a long breath of air. When her exhaled breath showed up as a visible white mist, Beckett started to wonder if that white part was made up of ice crystals. She drew in another deep breath and blew it out again, focusing her sight on that breath. Sure enough, the more she focused, the more she was able to see it as a combination of tiny snowflakes and water droplets.

Kate kept watching the snow in her breath as it formed and evaporated. A thought that was not her own brought her attention back to the world around her. _Having fun there, Beckett?_ asked Ryan.

Beckett's mind-voice was tinged with annoyance. _At least it kept me from focusing on how cold it is up here while I was waiting for you two. What took you so long, anyway? I thought you were coming straight from the precinct._

Esposito shifted his balance from one foot to another, which only served to make him look as guilty as he felt. _Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Gates stopped us on the way out with questions about our report on the McMasters case._

Beckett tensed up almost reflexively. The captain had been going over all their reports with a fine-toothed comb lately, which was making it harder and harder to create rational, real-sounding explanations for the evidence that they had acquired through things like telepathy, supernatural hearing and 'acquiring' the memories of a key witness. _What did she ask about?_

_How we knew that Jacob McMasters had been having an affair with his business partner,_ replied Ryan.

_I knew that was going to come up,_ Beckett exclaimed in frustration. Esposito had found 'memory' evidence of the affair by shaking the business partner's hand. Ryan confirmed it when the man spent most of the interview thinking of his last date with McMasters...which was just before he killed him. The couple had been spectacularly creative and careful with the affair, though, so there was very little evidence that would have been caught through conventional methods.

Still, when the partner was pushed, they were able to get a full, detailed confession out of him. The guy even pled guilty. Beckett had hoped her captain would let the evidence-gathering process slide. No such luck, apparently. _We are going to have to be a lot more careful with making sure our evidence trail lines up in the future,_ she told her fellow Guardians.

_Yes ma'am,_ their mind-voices replied in unison.

_And next time, Ryan, can *you* at least let me know if you guys are going to be late? If I had known, at least then I could have waited downstairs in the loft...where it's warm._

_You got it,_ replied Ryan, _next time._

Satisfied that her fellow Guardians had been properly disciplined for the evening, Beckett changed the subject. _Okay, so why *am* I freezing my butt off up here, Esposito?_

Esposito shrugged with a lot more enthusiasm that he would normally give the off-hand gesture. _I just figured we might want to go for a run._

Beckett raised a eyebrow, instantly suspicious. 'Going for a run' meant entirely different things to a Guardian than it did to anyone else, and there was a lot to take into consideration...especially considering their proposed starting point. _Aren't we kind of exposed up here, Javi?_

_I thought about that,_ Esposito replied, jumping into their plan with enthusiasm. _We run crazy fast at top speed. You combine that with the fact that most people won't believe their eyes if they see any tricks we throw in, and if we dress in black and keep talk to mind-link only..._

It wasn't hard for Beckett to complete Esposito's rambling train of thought. _Then there wouldn't be a whole lot for anyone to connect to a normal human being doing it, let alone anybody *specific*._ Esposito nodded, and another concern rose to the front of Beckett's mind. _What if we slow down too much and get caught?_

Esposito turned to his partner. _I have an idea about that,_ said Ryan. _I was watching The Shadow the other day-_

_That lame movie with Alec Baldwin?_ Beckett teased.

Ryan's mind-voice took on a slightly defensive edge. _Yes, that one. Look, it's not like I'm likely to cross paths with another telepath, so I gotta get my ideas where I can. Anyway, one thing that the Shadow did to hide his identity was a perception filter. He was still the same guy, but he made people *think* he looked different. So I figured I'd try it._

Beckett watched, impressed, as Ryan's face wavered and shifted...until she found herself looking at two of Esposito. _Very effective, Ryan,_ said Beckett. _Uh...you *are* Kevin Ryan, right?_

The real Ryan raised his hand in a salute and smiled. _Guilty as charged. _As his features returned to his own, Ryan continued,_ It takes longer to shift when there's a big difference between our original faces and the end result, though. So the plan would be that if we slowed down or got into a position where we could possibly be recognized, I'd change our features just enough so that no one could pick us out of a lineup._

Beckett considered everything she had heard carefully. It was a huge risk, and if they were caught and their identities exposed...well, she didn't even want to think about how their lives would be irrevocably altered. And yet...

The lights of New York City at night surrounded her, teased her, invited her to come and play...and play was something that had been severely lacking in her life lately, what with Castle on a deadline and Gates on their backs like a bad rash and one case after another after another after another...

Beckett took off at a full sprint, clearing the alley between her building and the building next door by a good ten feet. She turned back in the direction of her fellow Guardians with the first smile that had crossed her face in almost a week. _Coming, boys?_

Ryan and Esposito didn't have to be asked twice.

* * *

Beckett turned her neck as far to the right and to the left as she dared, stretching out the muscles any way that she could. Everything hurt. She was sore in places she didn't even realize she had muscles.

It was wonderful.

Beckett ducked under the crime scene tape at the entrance to the playground, gave her badge number to the officer at that entrance, and took in the scene in front of her. The merry-go-round let out several high-pitched creaks as it spun in the steady, cold breeze. The CSU techs were scattered around the scene, carefully bagging every bit of information they could collect and photographing the blood spatter patterns that they couldn't collect.

Ryan nodded to her in greeting, having to keep just about all his focus on his own task. He was interviewing a small, shivering blond-haired woman. Even though Beckett could feel her fellow Guardian's calming aura from almost thirty feet away, the woman was still visibly shaking. It was then that she realized that Ryan's witness wasn't a woman, but a girl who couldn't have been any older than thirteen...at the most. _Poor kid,_ she thought.

Beckett passed the merry-go-round to talk to her best friend Lanie Parrish while she worked. Lanie couldn't help but notice how relaxed her fellow Guardian looked. "Girl, you are in the best mood I've seen you in all week!" she exclaimed. "What, did writer-boy finish early?"

"No, he's still in deadline mode," Beckett replied matter-of-factly, her focus never leaving the body in front of them. "What do we got?"

"Well, you'd think that this was an accident, the way it looks on the surface," replied Lanie, "but if you take a closer look at the skull of our friend here..."

Beckett knelt with Lanie next to the body splayed out on the concrete...checking carefully to make sure she didn't step in the pool of blood and brain matter surrounding the head. Lanie watched her friend wince as her knees flexed, but since Beckett wasn't bringing it up, Lanie decided to follow Kate's lead...for the moment.

The medical examiner turned her attention back to the task at hand, turning the victim so the back of his head (and much of his brain) was clearly visible. "You don't get this much damage to a skull from one knock on concrete." Laying the body back down, Lanie pointed out a spot of blood-matted hair on the victim's hairline. "And when you combine that with the fact that this section of his hair is sticking up like it was grabbed onto..."

"You think someone bashed his head in after he fell?" asked Beckett.

Lanie nodded. "That's my preliminary, yeah."

"Can you estimate the time of death?"

"Based on rigor, I'd say between 5 and 7am," replied Lanie.

Beckett thanked her friend, then continued her examination of the scene. They were in the northeast corner of the playground, where the red brick maintenance building was located. And it was in the building's decorative brick roof trim that she saw it. Sometimes a piece of evidence at a crime scene just sticks out like a sore thumb; it's that one piece of evidence that often gets the ball rolling in any investigation. It can tell you that a scene that looked like an accident was no accident, or it could tell you who the killer was...or it could tell you why they decided the life of the victim needed to be taken at all.

In this case, the empty space where a brick should have been was just too clean; it whispered to Beckett the possibility that even the victim's fall itself might not have been an accident. She looked up, instinctively calculated the distance from the ground to the roof target, and, almost without thinking, took a leaning step forward...

Ryan caught the temptation in Beckett's mind before she had a chance to fully act on it. _Ah ah ah...that's kind of high up, isn't it? Normal, Average, Detective Beckett..._

Beckett blushed, but quickly recovered...leaving her fellow Guardian as the only one who noticed. Making sure she stood *away* from the building as she waited, Beckett called out to the techs, "Can someone get me a step ladder, please?"

Ryan fought a losing battle to keep the smile off his face. _Good girl._

Beckett rolled her eyes as she waited for the tech to set up the ladder and step aside. After she climbed the ladder, Beckett was able to confirm what she had seen from the ground: powdered dried cement chunks littering the area behind the space where the brick should have been...and an ice pick. Through the mind-link Beckett described what she was seeing to Ryan. _It looks like someone came up here and chiseled away the grout behind a couple of the bricks up here..._

_So when our parkour-practicing friend here-_

_They're called tracers, Ryan._

_Gee, I wonder how you know *that*, _Ryan teased._ Anyway, so our tracer here came out for a morning practice session, scaled the front of the building, and grabbed one of the bricks in that trim, expecting to find an easy handhold..._

_And ended up with a fistful of loose brick,_ added Beckett. _He fell backwards, landing on his back on the ground, and before he had a chance to get up..._

Ryan completed the story. _Someone came over and bashed his head in._

_This was a trap, set up by someone to catch a tracer,_ mused Beckett, _so they could kill him._


	2. Chapter 2

The nearly clean white dry-erase board always made Beckett a little uncomfortable. It needed to be filled with a life, an investigation...a mystery for her to solve, a challenge to overcome. _God, I'm starting to sound like Rick, _she mused.

_They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, _Esposito teased through the team's mind-link, _or in your case, cheesier._

Beckett rolled her eyes and forced herself to continue the conversation audibly instead of through the mind-link. "So what do we have on Mister Alex Masterson besides a name and his DMV photo?"

Esposito began, "Well, professional tracers usually try to make money out of parkour one of two ways..."

"Do we know Masterson was a pro?" asked Beckett.

Esposito nodded. "He was considered an up-and-comer within the sport. Made it into the semi-finals of American Ninja Warrior last year."

"What's that?" Beckett asked.

"Some sort of ultra-tough obstacle course competition. A lot of the top guys in parkour compete, apparently," replied Esposito.

Beckett steered them back to the narrative that Esposito had been trying to deliver. "Okay, so Masterson was a pro tracer, and just starting to make a name for himself. Did he make his money from this American Ninja competition?"

Esposito shook his head. "No, only the winner of Ninja Warrior gets any cash out of it. And only three guys in the show's history have ever done it...anyway, Masterson was looking to make his money as a stuntman. We found his reel on YouTube."

Beckett and Esposito crossed over to Ryan's desk, where the younger detective was watching the late Alex Masterson run, jump, twist and flip through seven minutes of effortless-looking parkour. Beckett noticed the contact information in the video's description did not match the victim. "It appears Mr. Masterson had an agent. Why don't you guys go pay him a visit and see if this reel got our victim any work."

"On it," Ryan and Esposito replied in unison.

As she watched her fellow Guardians leave, Beckett switched to the mind-link. _Oh, and guys...want to go for a run tonight?_

Ryan and Esposito broke into matching smiles and responses. _Same place, same time?_

_I'll take off without you if you're late..._

* * *

"Robert Ortman Agency, please hold...Robert Ortman Agency, please hold...Robert Ortman Agency, please hold..."

Ryan and Esposito listened patiently as the receptionist's mantra of capitalism droned on for what felt like forever. _How many lines does this woman have to answer? _asked Ryan.

_I think she has to answer phones for the whole building, _Esposito replied.

Finally the last line was put on hold, allowing the receptionist's attention to focus on the men in front of her. "May I help you?"

Ryan spoke up. "We need to speak with Alex Masterson's agent, please."

"And you are...?"

The two detectives flashed their badges simultaneously. "VIPs," replied Esposito.

The receptionist viewed their badges with skepticism. "And what is your business with Mr. Jameson, officers-"

"Detectives," Ryan corrected the woman, "Ryan and Esposito. We are investigating the death of Mr. Masters-" A gasp of shock from the receptionist cut Ryan off, which he noticed immediately. "You knew Mr. Masterson?"

The receptionist nodded wordlessly, trying to hold back a sob. "Athletes are persistent types, so when they're trying to get in the business you tend to see a lot of them, y'know? When she saw Ryan nod, she continued, "Alex was one of the few guys who was actually nice to me around here...I'm going to miss him a lot."

Remembering what the two men were there to do, the receptionist composed herself as best she could and reached for the phone's intercom button. The person on the other line apparently answered quickly, since it was less than a second before the receptionist announced, "NYPD Detectives Ryan and Esposito to see you, sir." She then turned back to the detectives, "Follow me, please."

Ryan and Esposito followed the receptionist out of the waiting area and behind the double glass doors into a sea of cubicles. After a half dozen lefts and rights that made Ryan start to wish the woman had a tour guide's flag, they arrived at the receptionist's intended destination. It was the desk of a middle-aged, balding man with a potbelly who was clearly sweating. He was on the phone finishing up a call. "Mikey, I'm telling you this guy is going to be huge. The next great action star. You hire him now, he might do you a favor and cut you a break when he makes it big..."

It was only then that the man recognized that the receptionist was behind him with the two detectives in tow. He returned to wrapping up the phone call. "Listen. Mikey, babe, I gotta call you back. You know how it is, right? Right? Anyway, I got people who gotta talk to me, so can I call you back in twenty? Thanksomuch...Buh-bye." With his attention sufficiently freed up from being off the phone, the man turned his attention to Ryan and Esposito. "Sorry about that, gentlemen. Mister Bay is one of those guys who when he wants something, he wants it yesterday, ya know what I mean?" He offered his hand in greeting to the detectives as he continued, "Eugene Jameson, nice to meet ya."

Esposito shook the man's hand...and fought the urge to wipe his hand on the back of his pants shortly afterwards. _Ugh...this guy gives new meaning to having an oily personality. _

_See anything helpful? _asked Ryan quickly.

_Not immediately, _replied Esposito. _I'll go over his life in more detail when we're done._

Ryan turned his attention quickly back to shaking Eugene's hand. "Mr. Jameson, is there a place where we can speak in private?"

The receptionist spoke up. "Conference Room B is available for the next hour, Mr. Jameson."

"Will that work for you fellas?" asked Eugene.

Ryan and Esposito agreed, and the receptionist led them to the conference room. The two detectives took seats opposite the agent at the conference table. Ryan began, "Mr. Jameson, we'd like to ask you some questions about one of your clients, Alex Masterson."

Eugene's face paled, and Ryan watched, amazed and a little disgusted, as even more sweat seemed to pour off the man's bald head. "Alex isn't in trouble, is he? Jesus, he seemed like such a nice kid...ah well, guess this business gets to everyone sometime..."

Esposito stopped Eugene before his thoughts could trail off further. "Unfortunately Mr. Masterson was found dead this morning."

"Jesus," Eugene exclaimed. He took a roll of what looked to be antacids our of his pocket and popped a couple in his mouth. "Kid had just gotten his big break, too..." Eugene commented quietly. "Isn't that always the way..."

"You said that Mr. Masterson had just gotten his big break?" asked Ryan. "What was it?"

"Are you familiar with a cable cop show called Follow the Money?" asked Eugene. When the two detectives nodded, Eugene continued, "Alex just wrapped a job doing a big stunt for their season finale. They liked him so much they wanted him to come back next season as the star's stunt double. Oh, God...now I gotta find them a replacement..."

* * *

Beckett smiled as she watched Castle take in the scene around him with his typical boundless curiosity. While she was walking through the set with a deliberate sense of purpose, he was taking in *everything*. "Gee, someone who didn't know you would think you had never been on a movie or TV show set before in your life, Castle..."

Her partner was unapologetic. "Beckett, one thing you need to remember about writers is that we have *very* active imaginations. The whole point of getting stories down on paper is to have someone else pick up that paper and see the same thing that was going through my head. The ultimate representation of that is taking the words off that paper and putting those images on a screen."

"Still, I kinda thought you'd hate this show, Castle, what with the star beating you out of the title of most ruggedly handsome New York bachelor..." Beckett teased.

Castle decided to rise above the bait. "Actually, at one point I wanted to shadow one of the guys they based this show on."

"Really? The fed?" asked Beckett.

"Nope," Castle countered. The grin on his face spoke of his usual boyish shamelessness. "The art thief. We had everything worked out, too...until he got himself caught and wound up in prison."

Beckett found herself curious about Castle's almost-shadow. "Whatever happened to the guy?"

"He did his time and dropped off the radar shortly after that. But then I met you, and I stopped caring about tracking him down. I'd barely even thought about him until I heard about this show."

"So do they do the guy any justice? The thief on the show is a pretty larger-than-life character."

Castle shrugged, "It's TV, they exaggerate. But in his case, they didn't exaggerate all that much. It's not that far off from what Chris was really like."

"Thanks, Rick," replied a quiet male voice behind him, "I'm glad we get at least some of the details right."

Beckett and Castle turned to find a middle-aged man in a well-tailored Armani suit crossing the set to meet them. Castle greeted the man with a handshake and a warm smile. "Marcus, it is good to see you again..."

Marcus' smile matched Castle's: warm enough to show that the two knew each other, but that they weren't close friends...as evidenced by how Marcus' smile didn't quite make it to his eyes. "It's been too long, Rick. Three months and all I get is the standard rumor mill grist about some new girlfriend taking up all your spare time..."

Castle turned to Beckett to make polite introductions. "Kate Beckett, this is Marcus DiNapoli, executive producer of 'Follow the Money'. Marcus is on the board of the Hamptons Classic..."

"Which Rick used to attend every year. At least, until *this* year," corrected Marcus.

"I was busy! Gina's breathing down my neck about another Nikki Heat book, and it's barely half finished as it is. Now, you wouldn't want me to lose my contract and not be able to donate all that money every year, now would you?"

"No, of course I wouldn't. Anyway, I'm sure you didn't just come down here to get pestered by me. What can I do ya for, Rick?"

Castle shifted his attention to his partner, who drove the conversation to their original intent. "Actually, Castle's here with me." Beckett held out her badge as she re-introduced herself, "*Detective* Kate Beckett, NYPD."

"Ah, the *real* Nikki Heat," Marcus returned smoothly. "What can I do for you, detective?"

Beckett was all business. "We were hoping we could talk to someone about Alex Masterson. We understand he worked as a stuntman on the show recently?"

Marcus waved a man over to their conversation with a silent gesture. "I'll introduce you to my stunt coordinator, Jeremy Parkinson. If anyone would be able to tell you about a stuntman it'll be Jeremy."

A well-built but shorter man joined the conversation. "Yeah boss?" he asked Marcus, "Whaddya need?"

"Jeremy, this is Detective Kate Beckett and Richard Castle. They want to find somebody who worked with an Alex Masterson."

"Yeah, I worked with Alex on the ep we shot last week," said Jeremy. "Good kid."

Beckett asked, "Did he have any problems with anybody here on the set? Did he get in a fight with anybody?"

Jeremy shook his head. "No way. He was totally cool. Laid back, great sense of humor. What's this about?"

"Mr. Masterson was found dead this morning," Castle announced solemnly.

Marcus and Jeremy had matching expressions of shock. Jeremy looked like someone had punched him in the gut. "Oh my God," exclaimed the stuntman, "I was so looking forward to working with Alex next season..."

"You hired him last week after the episode wrapped?" asked Beckett.

Jeremy nodded. "Mark needed...needs a new stunt double next season because Curtis is moving to LA. I brought in Alex last week as a test run, and he was so cool to work with that I was happy to hire him..."

"Was there anyone else who was in the running for the job? Maybe they got jealous of Alex getting it instead of them?" asked Castle.

Jeremy started to say no...but then stopped himself. "Well there *was* Dave..."

"Dave?" asked Beckett.

"Dave Grenholm. He's been in the business a couple of years now; super-talented guy. Now that I think about it, I think Alex mentioned that he and Dave were friends."

"Maybe they stopped being friends after Alex got the job," mused Castle.

* * *

_Well, Esposito, _Beckett declared, _You were right. This was a terrible idea._

Esposito smiled at his friend's obvious teasing. _Yeah, I mean it's not like anyone actually looks at the billboards in Times Square or anything._

That did it; Ryan's mind voice burst out laughing. _If they only knew what we were doing *behind* those billboards..._

Beckett swung herself up onto a piece of metal scaffolding supports, propping herself up with the back of the billboard to catch her breath. _Think anyone can see us?_

_Have *you* ever stopped to look behind a Times Square billboard? _Esposito replied.

_Good point, _Beckett replied.

Ryan swung up onto his own 'perch' buffeted by a corner of scaffolding. _Javi, this was definitely one of your better ideas. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun..._

_I can, _Beckett declared with a smile.

The memory rose to the front of all three Guardians' minds in perfect unison. _Hide and seek..._

That led Esposito to another idea; one that was picked up by the other two Guardians before he even had to phrase the thought. Beckett looked at her watch as she considered the idea. _I'd love to, guys, but I gotta get back to Castle before he worries..._

Ryan and Esposito looked at each other, unable to resist the obvious response. They responded in perfect mental unison, _But mom, five more minutes? Pleeeaase?_

Beckett smiled patiently, enduring the teasing in good spirits. _Just be glad Castle leaves that paintball gun in the Hamptons, or tomorrow night I'd be tempted to cover a good number of the roofs of Manhattan in neon green paint..._

* * *

Beckett closed the door to the loft so quietly she was sure that only someone with super-hearing could have heard it click closed. Which meant that she was so focused on closing the door quietly that she totally ignored the possibility that Castle could be sitting on the couch, waiting for her. She looked over to her boyfriend, blushing with embarrassment. "Hi honey, I'm home?"

"Hey," Castle greeted her with a loving smile and a warm chuckle. "What's with the walk of shame, Kate? Sick of me, already?" he teased.

Beckett shook her head. "Nah, it's just so late. I figured you'd be asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

"Sweet thought, but not happening," Castle replied as he wrapped he arms around his girlfriend and leaned in for a welcome home kiss. "Guess I've gotten to used to having you in my bed next to me..."

"Is that right?" purred Beckett suggestively, pulling Castle down to her level for a more passionate embrace. She opened up her sense of touch and let the feel of their joined lips and his hands on her back flood her senses.

Castle pulled away from the kiss with a loud, prolonged yawn. "Of course, now that you're home..."

_Home. *Their* home. _Beckett's laugh was warm and affectionate, both as a response to her boyfriend and a reaction to the fact that she still wasn't quite used to thinking of the loft as *home* just yet. She let Castle lean on her a little as they climbed the staircase. "Let's go to bed, Rick."

"'Kay," Castle replied sleepily. It was then that he remembered why she was out late. "How was girls' night out with Lanie?"

_Lanie, forgive me... _Beckett lied, "It was great. We went out for drinks and talked. It feels like we haven't done that in forever..."

Castle was too tired to do anything other than accept what she told him. "Cool," he commented sleepily.


	3. Chapter 3

Beckett watched the tracers and their students as they jumped over tubes, climbed walls and balanced on wooden beams. Her memories floated back to climbing the scaffolding of the Times Square billboards and the flipping, flying sprints they did between the loft and 42nd street...

"Penny for your thoughts?" Castle saw the expression on his girlfriend's face and was starting to grow curious as to its cause.

Beckett was barely stirred out of her memories by the sound of her partner's voice. "Hmmm?"

"You're smiling like, well, like you're thinking about me..."

It wasn't hard for Beckett to roll her eyes at that comment even though the smile never left her face. "You have no *idea* what I'm thinking about, Castle..."

A tall, rail-thin young man with a wild mop of curly blond hair approached the pair. "You two interested in parkour classes?"

"Not really," Beckett replied, turning her attention to the new person in their conversation. She introduced herself, "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. This is Richard Castle. We need to talk to Dave Grenholm."

"That's me," the tall man acknowledged. "What can I do for you?"

Beckett got down to business immediately. "We're investigating the death of Alex Masterson, and we'd like to ask you a few questions about your relationship with him."

Dave's face fell at the mention of Alex's name. "Yeah, I heard about it yesterday. He is...was my best friend. We opened this place together."

"Jeremy Parkinson told us you guys were both in the running for the same job on 'Follow the Money'?" asked Castle.

Dave saw where they were going immediately. "I recommended Alex for the job, detective. We threw a party for him here when he got it. I was *happy* for him."

Every one of her senses confirmed to Beckett that Dave Grenholm was completely sincere. "Is there anyone you can think of who wouldn't have been as happy to see Alex successful?" she asked him.

"Not really. Everybody who talked to me loved Alex, but they wouldn't have come to me if they didn't." Dave's eyes widened just slightly as he thought of an idea to help the investigation. "Hey, we're having a Dark Angel party tonight at my friend's place. All of Alex's friends are going to be there. You guys should come. I'll introduce you around...someone might know something they didn't feel comfortable coming to me about when Alex was alive."

"Dark Angels?" asked Castle.

"I know, the name's terrible," replied Dave. "But no one can think of anything better to call them, so until someone has a better idea..."

"Them?"

"Yeah. The past couple of nights some of the guys here have been seeing these three tracers around town. They dress in all black and never say a word; they just do some of the craziest tricks you'll ever see in your life. On the top of high rises, no less..."

Castle seemed like he was too consumed by his own curiosity to notice the color drain from his partner's face. He asked, "Did anyone get pictures or video? I'd love to see it..."

"But that's just it," Dave cut him off, "That's what makes the whole story so weird. Someone tried to take video of them the first night to put it on YouTube...but their camera broke. Three more people tried last night...and *all* their cameras broke. I'd have thought they were just some urban legend except I think I might have seen them run the buildings on my block last night..."

_We're an urban legend already? _ thought Beckett. Out loud she asked, "Are people trying to *imitate* these guys?" Beckett surprised herself at how well she could keep the shock out of her voice.

Dave's eyes widened even as he considered the possibility. "No one on my crew, that's for sure. That's part of the reason for the party tonight: I want to get everyone together to be entertained but also to remind my people that trying to imitate that these guys themselves is a one-way ticket to an early grave."

Even through her own concerns, Beckett could tell that Castle was unable to resist the temptation to check out what would have otherwise sounded like a totally harmless mystery. "We'll be there!" Castle declared with enthusiasm. "What time?"

"9 o'clock, these guys only seem to come out after dark," replied Dave. He gave Beckett and Castle his address, which Beckett dutifully wrote down.

* * *

Castle was practically bouncing out of his shoes as they ended the interview and left the gym. "Can you believe it? We're going to see an actual urban legend tonight! It's like getting an invitation to go down into the sewers to go gator hunting. But Dave was right, though, Dark Angels is a lousy name..."

"Castle..." Beckett tried to interrupt her partner, but her voice was so quiet it was impossible for Castle to hear over his ramblings.

Sure enough, Castle was unstoppable. "I mean c'mon, it sounds too much like that show in the 90's with Jessica Alba. Oooh, what about urban ninjas? Yeah, that sounds much cooler. I mean, we could get you guys those full face masks like they used to wear in Ja..."

Frustrated, Beckett grabbed her partner by the shoulders and pinned him against the passenger side of the car. She got his attention, "Castle!" Then, through gritted teeth, Beckett finally admitted, "I can't go to the party tonight to see the Dark Angels because *we're* the Dark Angels...Me, Ryan, and Esposito."

She had been expecting shock, surprise, even anger from Castle when she finally told him. What she hadn't expected; what hurt her much more was the sadness and disappointment she saw in his eyes. His voice broke at barely above a whisper. "Kate, get in the car, please?"

When the couple got in the car, Castle finally allowed himself a small smile. "I know about the Dark Angels, Kate. Well, more like I guessed."

Beckett's eyes widened in surprise. "You know? How?"

"Just now, when Dave Grenholm mentioned that no one could get pictures or video of the Dark Angels. I guessed that meant the tracers he was talking about had to be you three."

"Why did that mean he had to be talking about us..." A memory from just after the battle in Times Square floated to the front of her mind. "Repair that we have damaged, return the world to its balance and shield us from those who might wish us to be harmed?"

"I cast that every morning, now," Castle replied with a wink and a far more mischievous smile. "Mostly I do it so there's no possibility of footage of 'Richard Castle, Wizard' showing up on TMZ, but hey, I'm glad to see it's working for you guys, too..." It was then that Castle's face returned to the look of sadness and disappointment Beckett had seen outside the car. "You guys went out on a run last night, Kate. You didn't go out with Lanie. Why did you feel you needed to lie to me?"

Beckett leaned back against the head rest of her car seat and sighed. "I don't know. It was Esposito's idea. At first I was hesitant because of the risks of getting caught, but then I just started thinking about you on a deadline, Gates on our backs and that endless pile of cases we've been having to deal with lately. It's been so long since I did something just for me that I...I couldn't say no."

"I get that, honey," Castle soothed, "I do...remember how miserable I was getting before we told my mother about the Guardians? And I don't mind the whole Dark Angels thing. I kinda think it's cool, to be honest."

That wasn't the answer Beckett was expecting, either. "Really?"

"Are you kidding? I'm now officially dating Black Widow. What's cooler than that?" Castle leaned over and met his girlfriend's lips in a gentle kiss to *prove* to Beckett that he wasn't mad. "But you still haven't told me why you *lied* to me."

"I was terrified we were going to get caught," repeated Beckett. "I guess I figured the fewer people who knew about it, the safer we were."

Castle responded with a gentle, patient sigh. "Kate, *you're* the one who's always reminding me how important it is for us to be honest with the people we're closest to. I can't protect you if I don't know what's going on."

"You're absolutely right, Rick," Kate admitted, "I'm sorry." She met her boyfriend in a more intimate kiss of apology, then asked him as their lips parted, "So what are we going to do about this party tonight?"

"Well Kelly," Castle replied with a smile, "Let's go talk to Jill and Sabrina and figure it out."

Beckett rolled her eyes at the terrible Charlie's Angels reference. _This Dark Angels thing is going to get old *quick*..._

* * *

Ryan and Esposito approached their boss as they got off the elevator. They wanted to see what she and Castle got out of Dave Grenholm. Beckett, though, cut them off before they could ask. "Don't you guys have some paperwork you need to catch up on?"

"Paperwork," Ryan repeated, reading his fellow Guardian's intention immediately. "Got it."

The two men returned to their desks and pulled out their own thick files of never-ending reports. Once everyone looked like they were quietly occupied, Ryan connected the four minds together so they could talk in true privacy. _What's up, guys?_

Castle spoke up quickly through the mind-link._ Guys, your...evening exercise routines have started to attract attention._

Ryan had to fight to keep his eyes from showing his surprise. _The lowest point on our runs has been the roof of your building...who could be watching us from up *there*?_

_It's New York City, _Castle replied. _Unless you're at the top of the Empire State Building there's a chance someone's in an apartment *above* you...and that someone could be watching. Grenholm has been hearing rumors about you guys._

Esposito fought the growing knot in his stomach. _By *name*?_

_No, thank God, _replied Beckett, _but that's only because Castle's been inadvertently covering our asses._

_It didn't sound like anyone was close enough to recognize you guys...that's why the Dark Angel nickname, _Castle added. _The spell just kept them from getting you guys on YouTube._

_Wait, what spell? _asked Ryan.

Beckett replied, _The spell he used to re-set everything after the battle with Lóng zhǔ._

_I cast it every morning in the hopes of keeping my ruggedly handsome face off of TMZ, _Castle added with a mental chuckle.

Beckett continued, _Well, lucky for us it's also broken the cameras of anyone who's tried to film us. Apparently that's enough to get us urban legend status over two days._

_They're calling us the Dark Angels, huh? Cool, _commented Esposito.

_Yeah, well Grenholm is having a Dark Angel party tonight, and he invited me and Castle so we can get an idea if Masterson had any enemies at the parkour school that he didn't know about it, _Beckett told the team. _Any suggestions? I can't be in two places at once._

_I'm going either way, _declared Castle.

_You should go too, Beckett, _insisted Ryan. _They won't care if there's just two of us._

_Okay then, _Beckett agreed, _Castle and I will go to the party and see what we can find. When should we expect you guys?_

_Party starts at 9? _asked Ryan.

Beckett sent Ryan and Esposito the address through the mind-link. Esposito ran through the best possible route from the loft in his mind...which sent his mental rehearsal of the route through everyone else's minds as he did it. Castle was the first one to respond to the sensation. _Esposito, I approve._

The rest of the team started to wish there was a way to communicate an eye roll through the mind link.


	4. Chapter 4

Beckett looked out at the glowing beacon of lights that was Times Square at night. It wasn't hard, from this vantage point, to see where the 'Dark Angel' legend might have emerged: it was difficult to see the scaffolding of the LED screens...difficult, but not impossible. Could anyone have picked them out of a lineup? Not a chance in hell. But could they have been seen? Quite possibly.

Castle came over and handed a red solo cup to his girlfriend. "It's sprite."

"I know," Beckett replied, smiling as she took a sip of the sweet beverage.

Castle looked out at the lights of New York City from their rooftop vantage point, wincing as the techno music behind them got kicked up another level in volume. "When did I get so old?" he whined.

"When you started paying Alexis' college tuition," smirked Beckett. She leaned in to get closer to Castle's ear so he could hear her over the blaring music. "But hey, think of it this way: if you're going to live to 450, you're not even a teenager yet."

"Great," Castle replied, rolling his eyes. "But will you still love me when I'm all pimply-faced and geeky?"

"You know I will," replied Beckett with a genuine, affectionate smile.

Castle returned the smile as Dave Grenholm made his way over to them. A young couple was following him. "Hey guys," he pointed out the couple behind him to the two Guardians, I want you to meet Troy and Jessica Albertson. They manage the school when Alex or I can't be there."

Troy, another tall, thin tracer with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, shook Beckett's and Castle's hands while the petite, blond-haired Jessica simply waved. "Dave told me you're the ones investigating Alex's death?"

Beckett nodded. "Was there anyone at the school who might have wanted to see Alex harmed?"

Jessica shook her head. "No, Alex wasn't the type to start fights with anybody."

"He was far more likely to run away from a fight...at top speed," Troy chimed in. "Now, Dave, on the other hand..."

"Alex would always force Dave to do all his dirty work," Jessica agreed.

Dave shrugged off the complaint with a sad smile. "That's why we worked so well together. He was the brains, I was the brawn."

"Alex was a classic conflict avoider," said Jessica. "So if something came up that he didn't want to deal with, he would ask Dave or Troy to take care of it."

The music behind them cut off unexpectedly as a voice yelled out, "Hey, I think that's them!"

The whole of the party seemed to make a push toward Castle and Beckett's little corner of the roof. Three black-clothed men were running along the rooftops toward the group...but they were coming from uptown, not from the loft side of Soho as they'd talked about. Beckett reached for her phone, wanting to call the boys; then she cursed as she realized that neither Ryan nor Esposito would have a phone on them. Rule #1 of their runs had been simple: don't bring anything that can be linked back to you if you dropped it. That included their badges, service weapons...and their cell phones. For the first time Beckett wished she had been the one who could read minds, because she couldn't think of any other way to get a hold of the other two detectives...

As if in answer to her prayers, a familiar voice echoed through her mind. _Beckett? Castle?_

Beckett immediately projected through the mind-link. _Ryan, where are you guys?_

_Just jumped the Flatiron, on our way to you, _replied Ryan, _why?_

Beckett replied by pulling her service revolver from her back holster and clicking off the safety. _We've got copycats coming in from uptown, _Beckett replied, _stay away from Times Square._

_Roger that, _Ryan and Esposito replied simultaneously through the mind-link.

Beckett started to repeat her conversation to Castle when he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. _I heard. He linked to everyone but Lanie. _The hum of Castle's shield energy surrounded her. _You think these guys are trouble?_

_Has to be, _replied Beckett, _you heard what Dave said earlier. Any tracer with enough experience to be tempted to try one of our runs also has enough sense to know how risky it is._

_Be careful you guys, _chimed in Ryan.

Two of the copycats were putting on an impressive show for the enthusiastic audience of partygoers...all except Dave, who was staring at Beckett's service revolver. He had seen cops have strange reactions to tracers before, but this..."Detective Beckett?" he asked, hesitantly, "You don't really think these guys are dangerous, do..."

The third tracer was the one that Beckett had all her focus trained on. The one that wasn't jumping any more than necessary. The one who hadn't even attempted a single trick. The one who was pulling a sighted pistol out of the back of his pants...

*BANG*

Beckett aimed and fired before the tracer was able to get a shot off. The tracer collapsed, clutching his left arm, then got up and staggered off. Beckett took one step toward the ledge but was stopped by Castle's hand on her arm. _We need to call this in, Kate. Ryan, where are you guys?_

_49th and Broadway, just on the other side of Hershey World. Everyone ok? _asked Ryan.

_Beckett got the shooter in the arm. They're heading north on 6th avenue, _replied Castle.

_On it, _replied Ryan and Esposito.

Beckett felt the mind-link disconnect as she turned to Castle. "We don't have anything on the guy right now, Kate," Castle said quietly. "You're the only one who saw the gun pointed over here. You know what that means."

When Beckett hung up the phone, Dave crossed the roof to face the two Guardians. Castle and Beckett were both surprised at the look on the face of the man in front of them. They were expecting shock, even anger on the younger man's face. Instead, Dave looked grateful. "Detective," he told Beckett, "I don't know how you got that guy, but thank you..."

Castle was stunned. "You *saw*..."

Dave shook his head and waved over a few of his friends, who seemed to be pushing each other to face Beckett and Castle. Finally four members of the group stepped forward...each of the two men and two women held up pairs of high-powered binoculars. One of the young men spoke for the group. "We all saw the guy. That gun was pointed right in my direction."

Beckett knew she shouldn't be pushing her luck. She had four witness who could corroborate the need to fire her weapon. And yet, it almost felt like a matter of personal pride...she knew she had to bring it up. "You know those guys weren't the Dark Angels, right?"

"We know," replied Dave, nodding. He called for a fifth friend to come forward. "Flip does the reels for everybody on the team. He even did Alex's reel...anyway, this lunatic was crazy enough to risk his video camera trying to get Dark Angels video. You got 'em, Flip?"

Flip nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I got 'em."

Dave volunteered to connect the camera to his television to confirm that Flip got what Beckett would need to confirm the identity of the potential shooter. Beckett paced nervously as the two tracers worked with the equipment. The television blinked to life, and Beckett and Castle joined the two men to see what they had.

Beckett watched the three men on the screen as they came closer and closer. When the trio were a building away from where the tracer had opened fire, Flip zoomed in on them. He clearly got each of the three men's faces on the screen...ending with the shooter as he pulled out his weapon.

Dave gasped as he recognized the face of the man on the screen instantly. "Mad Dog?"

It amazed Castle that someone with the nickname of 'Mad Dog' was not immediately on anybody's list of potential suspects. "Who's Mad Dog?"

"He applied for a teaching job about a month ago," replied Dave. "*Really* talented kid, but his references all said he had anger management issues, so we turned him down."

"Is that really a surprise, considering his nickname is 'mad dog'..." muttered Castle.

Beckett ignored her partner's comment. "Do you still have his application?"

Dave nodded. "We have all of his paperwork on file. I can get it for you from the office first thing tomorrow."

"Anyone know who the other two guys are?" asked Castle.

One of the witnesses approached the screen carefully. "Flip, can you back up until I can see the guy on the left?" Flip rewound the video until one of Mad Dog's accomplices was visible. "And the guy on the right?" After Flip complied, the girl who had been directing the cameraman declared, "I know those guys. They run that underground ninja school in Brooklyn."


	5. Chapter 5

As Ryan taped a DMV photo next to one of the still pictures taken from the video, he declared for the group, "Our shooter's name is Irving Eugene Mittleman."

Castle winced at the moniker. "Jeez, no wonder his nickname was 'Mad Dog'."

Ryan continued, "He's got a couple of prior warrants for assault, but nothing's stuck so far. He was also a suspect in a rape case about six months ago, but DNA tests cleared him."

"Fits with what Grenholm told us about his temper," Beckett commented. "Any idea where we can find this guy?"

"We called the phone number on his application to Grenholm's school, but it's been disconnected with no forwarding," added Esposito.

Beckett sighed in disappointment. "So he's in the wind?" Ryan and Esposito both nodded.

"What about that ninja school Grenholm told us about last night?" asked Castle.

Ryan shook his head. "Nothing online about it except for rumors. Apparently the group's some sort of fight club. You don't go to them, they come to you."

Beckett stared at the murder board, more questions than answers nagging at the back of her mind. "And all we have on Mittleman right now is that he pointed a gun at someone at the party."

"We can't even really be sure who," complained Castle quietly.

"Yeah, everyone who had binoculars thought Mad Dog was shooting at *them*," Beckett mused. "Did Mittleman have any connection to our four witnesses?" When she received three blank looks in response, Beckett added, "We need to find that out."

The senior detective picked through the box of case-related evidence sitting on her desk. As she found the bag of concrete dust, an odd sensation beneath her fingers inspired her to give the bag a closer look. Beckett extended her sense of touch until she could feel the granules of powder in the bag. When she felt several thin strands of something longer than the dust crystals, Beckett looked at the contents of the bag, and immediately confirmed what she had felt. She asked the group, "Any of you have a friend in forensics who might be willing to do you a favor?"

Ryan opened the group mind-link, knowing immediately what asking for favors meant. _What is it? _he asked Beckett.

Beckett recalled the memory of what she had seen, passing the _There are hairs in this bag. They're short, and covered with dust..._

_Which would be why forensics didn't catch them at the scene..._added Castle. Beckett nodded.

_So we need to get the bag to someone who'll go through it again without giving us grief about it? _asked Ryan.

_Exactly, _Beckett replied.

"I think I know somebody," Esposito volunteered.

Beckett handed him the bag. "Have them run the hair against the DNA records for Mittleman. If we can connect him to the murder scene I want to know about it."

"Got it," said Esposito.

As Ryan and Esposito left to go talk to forensics, Beckett started to shut down her computer and pack up her desk. "Where are you off to?" asked Castle, curious.

"Lunch date," replied Beckett. When Castle raised an eyebrow, the detective replied with a smile, "after our little...incident yesterday, I realized how long it really has been since Lanie and I have hung out. So we're going to lunch with Jenny and Alexis."

"I'll meet you at Grenholm's gym later, then?"

Beckett gave Castle a knowing smile. "Lunch meeting with Gina?"

"Yeah." The look on Castle's face spoke volumes about how he thought the meeting was going to go. "She wants me to update her about my progress on the next Nikki Heat novel."

"You mean your lack of progress," Beckett teased. Between working on cases at the precinct, spending time together, and working to develop and control his abilities, they were both well aware of how much time Castle was spending *not* writing. "Well, good luck," she told him, "after all, even you can't make a fully written Nikki Heat book just appear out if thin air."

"I should know," Castle grumbled as he headed toward the elevator, "I tried to do it last night..."

* * *

"Lanie, you were so right," exclaimed Jenny, "this place is fantastic."

"Thanks," replied Lanie. "I love coming here whenever I can get enough downtime to take a lunch hour. Of course, it's depressing how rarely that is..."

"Tell me about it," Alexis teased with a smirk.

Lanie countered quickly, "nuh uh, you're an intern, missy. That means you're absolute low man on the totem pole. You're not *supposed* to get a lunch hour unless you're picking up lunches for other people."

Two other adult heads nodded in agreement. Jenny shared sympathetically, "Don't worry Alexis, we've all been there." With a teasing glare she added, "although some of us might have had nicer bosses than you have..."

"Uh huh," Lanie could return teasing like this all day. "Just wait. You better hope I'm not still here when your kid is old enough to intern..."

Jenny's face fell a little at the mention of her unborn child, which everyone noticed immediately. "Jenny?" asked Alexis, concerned, "Is everything okay with the baby?"

"I was kinda hoping you could tell me," replied Jenny, never taking her focus off Lanie. "I mean, the doctor's telling me everything's fine, and my first ultrasound is next week, but..."

"You just want to be *sure*," Lanie added with a knowing smile.

Jenny blushed a little. "I'm probably worrying too much, aren't I?"

"Probably," Lanie replied with a wink. She covered Jenny's hand with her own, jumping immediately into a diagnostic trance. Lanie came out of it a moment later and quietly took a couple of bites of her salad, ignoring the rest of the table.

"Well?" pushed Jenny anxiously.

Lanie looked up from her salad and broke into a wide smile. "And *that* was for calling me a lousy boss. Jenny, everything's fine. Baby's perfectly healthy."

Jenny let out a loud sigh of relief. "Thank you. I was starting to get worried..."

"Because you, annoyingly skinny thing that you are, aren't even showing yet?" asked Lanie. "From what I can tell, the baby might be a little underweight right now. But then again, so are you, missy."

"In that case," Jenny smiled in return. Flagging down the waiter, she told the man, "I'd like a bacon cheeseburger and fries, please."

The four women broke out into relaxed giggles. "I do have a couple other questions..." asked Jenny.

"Do you want to know the sex?" Lanie replied.

"Have you and Kevin talked about it?" asked Alexis.

Jenny nodded. "He left the decision up to me. I...I want to know."

Lanie took another couple of bites of her salad, letting the dramatic tension build. Finally she told the nervous mom-to-be, "If you think you're worried now, just wait until daddy's little girl starts dating. You'll be glad Castle's the wizard and not your husband."

"So it's a girl?" asked Jenny, the excitement starting to creep into her voice.

Lanie nodded. "Congratulations."

Beckett and Alexis echoed their congratulations, and Jenny responded, "Thanks, everyone. Lanie, I just have one more question." Jenny shifted a little in her chair, having trouble finding the words to phrase what she wanted to say. "Does she...I mean, will she...could she..."

"Is Daddy's little girl going to be *just* like him?" asked Lanie, trying to finish the thought for her friend. When Jenny nodded, Lanie then answered, "I can't be a hundred percent certain, but my best guess is no. You were pregnant before all this happened to us, so my money would be on her being completely normal. If you guys decide to have more kids in the future, though, it could be upwards of a fifty-fifty shot."

Beckett's and Jenny's eyes both widened at Lanie's last statement. "Really?" asked Jenny. "Are you sure about that?"

"None of this is sure, honey," replied Lanie. "From what I can tell from the old journals, we're probably the first group of Guardians that weren't straight-up monks. It's hard to tell whether these talents of ours will be naturally passed on because no one's ever been put in that position before."

"So if Castle and I ever had kids..." mused Beckett.

Lanie let out a low whistle. "Those could be some *scary* kids, Kate. They could end up with your powers or Castle's...or both."

Beckett let out her own low whistle at the idea of her children potentially having *both* her abilities *and* Castle's. "Something for you and Esposito to think about too, Lanie."

Lanie stared into her drink, stirring it slowly. "If we ever get that far," she sighed.

"What's going on?" asked Beckett. "I thought things were going well."

"They were, I mean are," replied Lanie. "It's just the past week or so...it feels like Javi's been distant. He goes to hang out with Ryan at the drop of a hat, and when he's with me, it's like he's...distracted. Like he'd rather be somewhere else." Lanie turned to Jenny and asked, "Has Ryan been that way around you?"

"A little, now that you mention it," replied Jenny. "I just figured he needed extra time with the guys. I can be a little hard to be around lately."

Lanie tried to shrug off her own concerns. "I don't know, maybe I'm just being par..."

The violent sound of breaking glass interrupted their conversation. A scream pierced the air from further back in the room, and the four women turned around to see a man staggering around in a daze with a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a woman crawling behind an overturned table with a bullet wound in her thigh.

Beckett ducked behind another overturned table and followed the bullet's trajectory to a spot across the street. There, on the roof of the four story brownstone, a man with a crazed smile on his face and a determined glint in his eye held the same type of sighted pistol that Mittleman used at the Dark Angels party.

And it was aimed directly at her head.

Beckett waited for the start of the shooter's trigger pull to move, ducking out of the way and heading for the door at a dead sprint. She made it to the door frame before the man could have even thought to change the trajectory of his shot. Pulling her service weapon out of its back holster, Beckett called over to Lanie. "Call 911! I've gotta go after him."

"Be careful!" Lanie called out in response.

Beckett made *sure* to make eye contact with Lanie, hoping her best friend would get every meaning of her next phrase. "You too, Lanie. You too." She then took off after the shooter.

Lanie grabbed Alexis by the hand and pulled her toward the back of the restaurant where the injured were hiding. The two women knelt beside the man who was clutching his injured shoulder. Alexis knelt down immediately and started to apply added pressure to both sides of the man's wound.

"Thank you," said Lanie, ending the call on her cell phone. Kneeling down, she placed a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "Paramedics will be here in two minutes. Let me help."

"Are you *sure*?" asked Alexis, hoping the warning came out in her tone of voice, even if she couldn't say the words in public. _Are you sure you'll just apply first aid and not *heal* him completely?_

Lanie stopped for the briefest of seconds, finally getting the implied meaning of both Beckett's and Alexis' warnings. Raising her hands up in surrender, Lanie called over to one of the waitresses. "Hey, Michelle, is it? Let me talk you through how to bandage up a bleeding thigh..."


	6. Chapter 6

Beckett wasn't worrying about exposure, or photos, or video, or any possible publicity that could come from scaling a three story building by using the windows as her stepladder.

She just wanted to find the guys who were taking shots at her and her friends.

Beckett stopped for the briefest of moments on the roof of the brownstone, opening her senses for any trace of her target. Smell ended up taking the lead: the nervous, sweat-drenched shooter was high on *something*. It left a residual aroma that was sweet, musky, pungent, smoky and nauseatingly easy to track. She took off at a sprint, following the scent until her eyes caught up with her nose.

A familiar voice echoed in her mind as she ran. _Beckett, where are you? _asked Ryan. _Lanie called us once the paramedics got to the restaurant._

_I'm on top of 12th and 2nd, heading west. Thank God this idiot decided to run roofs..._

_What's this guy look like? _asked Esposito. Beckett flashed a mental image of the suspect around the mind-link.

_We'll get to the intersection, _Ryan assured Beckett. _If he hits street level let us know which way he goes._

_Gotcha. _Beckett caught up with the shooter as the wide avenue in front of him halted his progress. He turned around to face Beckett, pointing the gun directly at her head. The shooter's hand was trembling so badly, though, that Beckett knew it would be impossible for the man to get a clean shot off. "H-h-how did you get up here?" the man stammered out, eyes wide with shock and mad with whatever drug he was high on.

Beckett decided to try and talk the gun out of his hands. "Listen, buddy, you don't want to get hurt, do you? Or hurt anybody else? Why don't you put the gun down, and I'll put the gun down and we can talk..."

"NO!" The shooter refused to listen to anything rational. "Without pain...without sacrifice...we have nothing...Can't you see I was giving those people a *gift*?"

_Okaay..._Beckett was starting to realize that there would be no talking to this guy...at least, not without a little help. She reached out from the still active mind-link. _Ryan, how fast can you get up here?_

_Be right there. _Ryan scaled the building before Beckett could count to ten. _What do you need?_

_Our friend here isn't thinking clearly, _Beckett replied, _I was thinking you might be able to help him in that department?_

_Shouldn't be a problem, _replied Ryan. He held up his hands, turning on the charm and focusing his attention exclusively on the nervous man with the gun in front of him. "Hey. I'm Detective Ryan..."

"Y-you are j-just as much a part of the system as she is!" the shooter exclaimed.

It was all Ryan needed. _I'm just going to give you this gun, Detective Ryan..._

"I'm just going to give you this gun, Detective Ryan," the shooter repeated with a voice devoid of emotion.

Ryan took the gun from the man's limp hand without incident. _I think I need to go sleep this off somewhere..._

"I think I need to sleep this off somewhere," the other man repeated.

_Maybe you should put me in handcuffs so I don't hurt myself..._

The shooter held his arms out in front of him. "Maybe you should put me in handcuffs so I don't hurt myself."

Ryan secured the cuffs around the shooter's wrists as he slowly withdrew the connection. The shooter shook his head as if coming out of a stupor, then screamed when he realized his gun was gone and his hands were now immobile. "How the hell...you tricked me! I don't know how, but you tricked me!"

Beckett sighed as she pushed their suspect toward the roof exit door. _Ryan, just once I wish you would keep the guy on his leash 'til we got him into holding..._

* * *

"I am one of the strongest, smartest men who ever lived! I'll be stalking elk through the damp canyon forests of Rockefeller Center long after all of you are dead. Dead, you hear me! DEAD!"

From the observation room, Esposito let out a low whistle as he watched the deranged man they had handcuffed to a chair in the box. "Interesting guy you got there, Beckett."

"Yeah, well our friend there injured two people while trying to take out me and your girlfriend, let's not forget that," commented Beckett.

Esposito ground his teeth so hard it was starting to sound a little like popping popcorn. "Oh believe me, I know."

"I just hope we can get something out of his delusional ramblings..." Beckett mused.

Esposito had to keep from staring at his boss, as surprised as he was by that statement. "They're not ramblings. He's quoting 'Fight Club'."

"'Fight Club'?" asked Beckett.

Now Esposito had to turn to face his boss with his confusion. "Yeah. Everything he's said since you cuffed him to that chair has been either a direct quote or a paraphrase of something in the movie. You mean you've never seen it?"

"Never seen it," said Beckett.

Esposito pushed harder, totally stuck in disbelief. "The movie with Brad Pitt and Edward Norton? You've *never* seen it?" When Beckett shook her head again, Esposito turned his gaze back on their suspect, mouthing 'wow' in amazement. It was then, when watching the rambling madman in the box, that an idea came to him. "I think I might know how to get information out of our guy."

The idea that they would be able to get any information out of their suspect at *all* was a surprise to the senior detective. "Really? You think you can find out if he knows Mittleman?"

Beckett's cell phone rang, and she interrupted their conversation to answer it. When she finished, she turned her attention back to Esposito. "That was Lanie. The hair is a perfect match to Mittleman's, which makes him our prime suspect in Alex Masterson's murder. You're sure you can get information out of this guy?" Esposito nodded. "How...unconventional are your methods going to be?"

Esposito winced. "Gates just might suspend me again afterwards?"

"You're not going to break any laws, are you?"

Esposito shook his head. "I will be encouraging him to break one, though."

"Which is...?"

"Assaulting a police officer."

Beckett's eyes widened. "In a police station?" Esposito nodded. "What do you need from me?"

"Take the cuffs off of our friend in there, and take the table and chairs out so they don't get broken. Two witnesses in here, preferably guys who have seen the movie. And Ryan standing guard outside."

Beckett pinched the bridge of her nose, trying and failing to stave off the rapidly approaching headache. "I'm *sure* this is a bad idea, but I can't think of any other options. All right, I'll set it up."

* * *

Esposito closed the door quietly, trying to make it look like he was sneaking in to the room. The shooter was leaning against the back wall of the box, knees drawn up against his chest. The detective sat down next to the shooter, trying to make his voice sound as casual as he could. "Hey man, how's it going?"

The shooter looked at Esposito like he was mentally ill. "Man, why the hell should I tell you?"

"Because I admire you, man," Esposito said with a chuckle. "That woman who brought you in here? She's my boss. I heard you took a shot at her?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

Now it was Esposito's turn to stare at the shooter like he was crazy. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to do that? I owe you a beer, man."

The shooter returned Esposito's chuckle. "You don't even know me, man."

"Oh, like you know me?" Esposito countered. He reached out a hand in greeting. "Javier Esposito."

The shooter returned his handshake. "Doug Wilkinson."

"Nice to meetcha," Esposito finalized the greeting. He then scooted closer to Wilkinson, leaning in for a conspiratorial moment of 'privacy'. "Hey man, can I ask you a question?" When Wilkinson nodded, Esposito lied smoothly, "What's it like to pull the trigger?"

Wilkinson stared at Esposito, confused. "You mean you don't know?"

"I mean don't get me wrong, I shoot at targets all the time. I have to, for the job," Esposito replied. "But what's it like to have someone on the other side of your scope?"

Wilkinson stared off into space, relishing the retelling of the moment. "It's a complete rush. You know how when you get in a fight, and that first punch lands on your jaw..."

"Wouldn't know," Esposito interrupted him, "Never been in a real fight."

"Oh no way!" exclaimed Wilkinson. "Seriously?"

This was the moment Esposito was working toward; the chance to gain Wilkinson's trust and get him to slip up. But in order to do that..."Never did more than spar in a gym, man. Totally controlled environment."

While Wilkinson seemed to have no doubt of Esposito's sincerity, he was mostly taken aback by the total destruction of his preconceptions about cops. "Seriously, man? You're a cop, and you've never been in a real fight?"

"You'd be surprised how much of the job is paperwork," Esposito assured him.

Esposito seemed to be gaining more and more of Wilkinson's trust with every exchange in their conversation. Wilkinson looked around the room, presumably to see if he was being watched, then pushed himself to his feet. "Get up, Javier."

"What's up, Doug?" asked Esposito as he stood, feigning confusion.

"I want you to hit me as hard as you can," Wilkinson told him.

Esposito let his eyes widen as if he were completely shocked. "Are you out of your mind? In a police station? I would lose my job in a heartbeat."

"Then can I hit you? So you can see what it's like?" asked Wilkinson.

As soon as Esposito nodded, Wilkinson hit him with a solid right hook that the detective allowed to spin him to the floor. Esposito stood up slowly, faking a moment of realization. "Wow..." he commented, "that was...intense."

"You want another one?" asked Wilkinson. "You gotta hit me back if you agree, though."

Wilkinson slugged the detective as soon as he nodded, getting Esposito squarely in the nose. Esposito countered with a clumsy right hook of his own, carefully placing it so it hit Wilkinson between his ear and his neck. Wilkinson smiled as he took the punch, coming back with a precise uppercut. They traded similar blows and kicks for several minutes until Wilkinson was bloodied and breathing heavily.

Esposito mimicked Wilkinson's physical exhaustion even though he wasn't feeling it. "Wow..." he exclaimed in mock amazement, "you're a hell of a fighter, bro."

Wilkinson blew off the compliment. "That's nothing, Javier. You should see some of the other guys."

"What guys?" asked Esposito innocently.

Wilkinson repeated his previous motions of checking to see if he was being watched. Seemingly satisfied with his security, Wilkinson admitted, "I'm not supposed to talk about this, but I'm part of this fight club down in Brooklyn. We get together and fight almost every night. It's fantastic."

"Really?" asked Esposito, showing the most genuine interest he had had during the entire conversation. "I'd love to try that. Where do they meet?"

"This abandoned warehouse in Bed-Stuy. It's on the corner of Nostrand and Atlantic, a couple blocks away from the subway. Tell 'em Doug E Smooth sent you."

_Time to go in for the kill, _thought Esposito. "Doug E Smooth, huh? You wouldn't happen to know a kid named Mad Dog, would you?"

"Actually, yeah. He's a regular," replied Wilkinson without thinking. "He's the reason I went after your boss. I heard she shot him the other night. Can't have some weak little girl cop going after one of my bros."

"No, we can't have that," muttered Esposito under his breath. He composed himself quickly, though, and held out his hand for Wilkinson to shake. "Listen, man, I gotta go get cleaned up. This is going to be hard enough to explain already..."

Wilkinson shook Esposito's hand, smiling warmly with the teeth he had left. "Hey, no problem. Listen, you're not going to get in trouble for this, are ya?"

Esposito shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, you hit me because I asked for it." Adding a chuckle, he continued, "In this case, literally."

"Same here, man, same here," agreed Wilkinson.

"Then we don't have a problem," declared Esposito before he left the room. "Thanks again."

* * *

Esposito met his partner and Beckett at the door outside the box. "Okay, can someone tell me what the hell just went on in there?" asked an incensed Detective Ryan.

"Making sure our evidence trails line up," Esposito replied through clenched teeth. "So did we get everything we needed?"

"I'd like to know that as well, Detectives," piped up an authoritative voice behind them, "especially since you did not look to be in nearly that much pain when you walked in here this morning, Detective Esposito. Now will someone tell me what the hell is going on here and if the 'other guy' is getting ready to file a lawsuit?!"

"Sir, when we brought Wilkinson in he was completely uncooperative, mostly spouting quotes from the movie 'Fight Club'," Beckett explained.

Gates asked, "And what was this Wilkinson brought in for?"

"He shot up a restaurant where I was having lunch with Dr. Parrish of the Medical Examiner's office, sir," replied Beckett. "Two people were injured."

"So did Mr. Wilkinson confess to this shooting?" asked Gates.

Esposito nodded. "After I gained his trust, he told me that he shot at Detective Beckett in retaliation for when Beckett shot at Irving Mittelman."

"The prime suspect in the Masterson murder?" asked Gates, looking to connect everything together.

Beckett nodded. "We suspected that Mittleman was part of an underground fight club in Brooklyn. So when Wilkinson came in spouting Fight Club dialog we took a chance that there might be a connection."

"And is there?" asked Gates.

Esposito nodded as best he could. "Mittleman's a regular, which means that if we go there tonight we should be able to pick him up. Wilkinson walked me through how to get in."

"So everything that happened between the two of you in there," asked Gates skeptically, "it was all...consentual?"

Beckett nodded. "And we have two witness and camera footage who will verify Wilkinson's consent if he tries to change his story after the fact."

Gates considered everything she heard carefully, finally giving the slightest smile of satisfaction. "Nice work, detectives. Although, Detective Esposito, shouldn't a doctor be checking you out? Some of those injuries look quite...uncomfortable."

"I'm on my way to a doctor now, Sir," agreed Esposito, trying to ignore the cues his body was starting to give him. "I should be fine to go after Mittleman tonight, though. It's not nearly as bad as it looks."

Gates looked Esposito over, extremely skeptical of his downplaying of his injuries. _Still, if he's on the way to his doctor..._The captain turned and headed to her office, telling the group, "Let me know when you've got him, detectives."

"Yes, sir," responded the trio in unison.

When they were sure that Gates was out of earshot, Ryan asked his partner, "Can I be safe in assuming that the doctor you're on your way to is in the Medical Examiner's office?"

Esposito nodded. "The sooner the better, bro."

Ryan walked with his partner toward the elevator, letting out a small chuckle in response. "Okay man, but *I'll* do the driving..."


	7. Chapter 7

The walk from the entrance of the Medical Examiner's building to the morgue was a long and painful one for Javier Esposito..but it wasn't nearly as painful as the withering look that his girlfriend gave him as he walked through those double doors.

"Javi?" asked Lanie, the worry evident in her voice, "what happened?"

"I had to gain a suspect's trust...so he would talk to me," Esposito replied through clenched teeth.

Lanie was having a hard time believing her boyfriend's story, "By *letting* him bash your face in?"

"It's true, Lanie," Ryan insisted, supporting his friend on more than just the physical level. "The guy was pulling a crazy act, and Javi's little stunt here was the only way we could get him to talk."

"And who was this suspect, exactly?"

"The guy who was shooting at you and Beckett at lunch," Esposito replied.

_Figures he would do this to himself on *my* account, _thought Lanie. "I'm not going to be seeing this guy on a slab later, am I?"

"I pulled every punch, chica. I took far much more than I gave out."

"Does all this have anything to do with why you two have barely talked to me most of this week until now?"

Ryan and Esposito looked at each other and sighed. "Kinda?" replied Ryan, wincing for what he felt would be the inevitable tongue lashing to come.

It didn't happen. Instead, Lanie only let out a weary sigh, patting the clean, empty slab next to her. "C'mon Javi, get up here. I'll heal, *you talk*."

Lanie got to work immediately, letting her hands work on autopilot. The fact that she knew her boyfriend's body almost as well as she knew her own allowed her to free up her mind to listen to both Ryan and Esposito as they told her about their 'training runs', the Masterson case, the Dark Angels, and what happened at Dave Grenholm's party.

As she finished up healing the last of the bruises that were fighting to reveal themselves on Esposito's face, Lanie looked her boyfriend straight in the eye. "I only have one question, baby. Why did you feel like you couldn't talk to me about this?"

Esposito sighed, blushing as he thought his reply through carefully. "I was scared that if I told you about this that the other shoe would drop," he finally admitted. "It seemed like every time I discovered something good about being a Guardian that there ended up being some sort of life-or-death consequence to go right along with it. So when Ryan and I came up with this idea..."

"You were afraid that I would find a way to kill the buzz?" asked Lanie, raising an eyebrow.

"At the very least, we've been risking exposure," Esposito countered, "and I knew I would have gotten an earful about that..."

It quickly became Lanie's turn to sigh as she realized how far their ability to support each other had gone off track. "Javi, this afternoon, how many people were injured when Wilkinson tried to shoot me and Beckett at the restaurant?"

"Two," he replied, unsure of where she was going with this.

"And you know this how...?" asked Lanie.

Ryan and Esposito both caught on immediately. As Esposito's heart filled with compassion for his girlfriend's experience, Ryan answered her question. "Because you couldn't heal them without risking the exposure of your abilities."

Esposito thought about how he would feel under those circumstances, and his heart filled with compassion for the situation his girlfriend had found herself in. "Aw Lanie," he sighed, caressing her cheek with his hand, "I'm so sorry."

"Knowing that I could do something for those people, take all that pain away from them *completely*, and then having to make the deliberate call to *not* do it...it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do," Lanie explained. She pulled Esposito's hand away from her face and enveloped it in her own hands, looking him directly in the eye. "Javi, these abilities we have, and the things we can do with them are pretty incredible. But they've also put us all in an incredibly delicate position. If we try to just stuff them in a drawer and forget they exist, then when we *do* need to use them we're more likely to wind up getting hurt by them. Not to mention how miserable it makes anyone to closet a part of who they are. We *need* to find ways to use these abilities...even if it's just practice. Yes, there are risks involved...but the risks are much bigger if we don't."

Esposito's face lit up with a broad grin. "You never fail to amaze me, you know that, Lanie?"

"I know," Lanie replied, her wide smile matching her boyfriend's. "It is nice to hear it sometimes, though."

"I'm sorry I kept this from you," Esposito admitted, trying to affirm his feelings with a gentle apology kiss.

As Lanie broke away from the kiss, she told him, "If there's one thing I've learned from watching Castle and Beckett all this time, it's that keeping secrets doesn't do a damn bit of good for *anybody's* relationship."

"Leave it to me to be the last one to learn my lesson," Esposito purred, pushing his lips to melt into hers once again.

As the couple started to deepen their kisses, a series of deliberate coughs brought their attention back to the fact that there was still a third person in the room. "I hate to interrupt," Ryan told them with a smile, "but if you're back to full strength, Javi, we do have a raid to plan?"

"You're going to the fight club tonight?" asked Lanie.

Esposito nodded. "It's probably going to be our best shot to get Mittleman."

"Then you boys should both probably plan to stop by my place after it's all over," Lanie told both men. Turning to her boyfriend, she then purred, "and if you want to stick around after that, well..."

"I think that'll work," Esposito returned with a smile.

Ryan rolled his eyes at the overload of sickly sweet affection coming from Esposito and his girlfriend. "Jeez, were Jenny and I ever this bad?"

"Worse," the couple replied in unison.

* * *

Captain Victoria Gates paced the length of her office, pausing only to stop at the window to the bullpen and watch her most troublesome detectives and Castle plan their strategy for the raid on the fight club. She watched Esposito move around the bullpen with a flood of conflicting emotions warring within her. _I know I should just be relieved that Esposito's okay, _Gates thought, _Still, I just can't shake the idea that he was lying through his teeth when he told me that it "wasn't as bad as it looks". But then how is he walking around like that fight *never happened*? _

She paced the room again, pausing at her desk to pull out a Manila folder she had only recently started to fill. _Every single one of them has been lying to my face for *months*. But what are they lying about? _

_There's only one way to find out._

* * *

Ryan followed the dim light in the warehouse until he reached the meeting place Doug had told him about. He examined the crowd cautiously, looking for anyone who might potentially be an honest threat. The men looked to be from all walks of life: a couple of men wore work shirts with (hopefully) their name on them, and several men who seemed to have dropped suit jackets behind them and rolled up the sleeves of their dress shirts. Ryan smiled to himself as he realized that the smarter men had also gotten rid of their ties. A few men came in jeans, a few men were in sweats. The rest were in shorts and T-shirts...a concession to the heat and humidity in the air and the anticipation of sweat to come.

Ryan spotted his partner milling around with the crowds on the other side of the room, reaching out to him through the open mind-link. _Any luck finding Mittleman?_

_Nope, _replied Esposito.

_How's the competition over there?_

_Most of these guys are complete amateurs, _commented Esposito, _but watch out for the guy in the blue dress shirt and the two guys in green polos. They're probably the most experienced fighters in here._

_Ringleader?_

_Springsteen t-shirt and jeans hanging out in the back. Can't see his face, though._

_Recognize anyone who can make us?_

_Not that I've seen. _

_Castle? Beckett? How are things on your end?_

* * *

_All quiet out here, _Castle chimed in.

Beckett tilted her head, leaning just slightly outside the passenger window of the car they were sitting in to stake out the building. She scanned the area for any signs of movement that weren't in the fight club 'zone' that she was forcing herself to filter out. _I'm not detecting anything between us and you, but keep in mind I can't hear a whole lot on the other side of you guys._

* * *

_Keep us posted on your end. Hopefully we're right about this, _thought Ryan.

_We're right, _Esposito chimed in. _These guys are hooked on the adrenaline rush they get from fighting. No way Mittleman will miss the chance to get his fix._

The group surrounding them started to settle down as the guy in the Springsteen t-shirt moved to the focal point of the light and the circle. _Heads up, _Esposito warned the group, _ringleader boy was one of the guys in the video with Mittleman._

_You're sure? _asked Beckett.

_One hundred percent, _declared Esposito. _That's one of our guys._

Springsteen t-shirt coughed a couple of times to get the group's complete attention. "Gentlemen, gentlemen! Welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club! Third rule of Fight Club: someone yells "stop!", goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule: only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule: one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule: No shirts, no shoes. Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Ryan tried to make a connection with Springsteen t-shirt's mind to see if he had any thoughts on when Mad Dog might make an appearance, however, the detective was finding it difficult to concentrate with the man in the blue dress shirt sizing him up like a steer in a steak market. It was only when blue dress shirt moved on that Ryan was able to place his face. _Javi, heads up. Blue dress shirt is the other guy from the video._

Blue dress shirt stopped in front of Esposito, examining him with the same scrutiny the man used on Ryan. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Esposito assumed the same weak, defensive position he held with Wilkinson at the precinct. "Y-y-yes, sir."

"First time?" Esposito nodded. Blue dress shirt smiled, as if he were remembering his own first time in the ring. "You know the rules now, boy. What's your name?"

"Ja-Javier, sir. Javier Esposito."

"Well, Javier Esposito, you're gonna fight first." Blue dress shirt scanned the room to find a suitable opponent for the nervous man standing next to him. He waved over one of the green polo shirt guys. "Dave, want to baptize the new guy?"

Green polo shirt number one smiled as he came forward. "You know how I love to fight first timers, Chris."

Dave removed his shirt and slipped off his shoes, encouraging Esposito to do the same. As soon as Esposito's shoes were off, Dave went straight for Esposito with a wicked left hook. Esposito allowed the blow to take him to the floor, then quickly shook off the effects of the hit as he stood up. _Keep an eye out for Mittleman, Ryan, _Esposito reminded his partner, _and you should be able to get into Springsteen t-shirt's head while I'm fighting._

_Don't worry about me, _countered Ryan, trying to fight off a smile, _focus on controlling your fight. _

_Me? _Esposito joked, _I could do this all day..._

_Uh huh, _replied Ryan skeptically. He kept the connections between his friends open in the back of his mind and focused on digging into the mind of Chris, the guy in the Springsteen t-shirt. It didn't take long for Ryan to find the information he was looking for. Disconnecting from Chris' mind, Ryan told his team, _according to the ringleader, Mad Dog is supposed to be here already._

Ryan's news disturbed Beckett. _If he's supposed to be here already, then where is he? _she asked the group. _You're sure you guys haven't seen him in the fight circle?_

Esposito scanned the room quickly, distracting himself just long enough to get nailed with an uppercut. _I'm sure, _he insisted through the mind-link, _he's not here._

_If he were here, Chris wouldn't be so worried, _agreed Ryan. _Chris thinks the cops have Mad Dog._

Beckett got out of the car, unholstering her service weapon as she told the group, _I'm getting a bad feeling about this, guys_. _I'm going to do a quick run around the warehouse, see if I'm missing something._

Castle quickly followed his girlfriend, shielding the two of them quickly. Beckett stopped her boyfriend, though, with a gentle hand on his chest. "Castle, I'm probably not going to be spending much of this patrol on the ground floor, if you catch my drift?"

The wizard understood immediately, giving Beckett a quick goodbye kiss. "Call me if you need me. And be careful."

"Always," Beckett assured Castle, trying to let her love for her partner be conveyed in her smile. She jumped noiselessly atop a metal storage container, moving with a dancer's grace and near-blinding speed. _I'm hearing a heartbeat outside the range of the fight circle, guys. My guess is it's Mittleman._

As Beckett got closer to the main warehouse, though, she picked up a sound that caused her to move with greater urgency. _Heads up, guys. I'm hearing two heartbeats down there, not just one. And they're in close proximity to each other. If that's Mittleman, he's got company with him._

* * *

The tide of the crowd's favor turned slowly with every minute the fight dragged on. While the fight club regulars had started the match squarely supporting Dave, Esposito was gaining more respect with every punch he took. The detective was still standing a good five minutes into the fight. And he wasn't just blindly slugging away at Dave out of exhaustion. Esposito was still choosing his own punches carefully, occasionally hitting the group's 'lieutenant' with a flurry of punches and kicks that would leave Dave staggering for breath. Dave was stubborn as a mule, though, and Ryan knew Esposito's opponent would rather get knocked out cold than slap out or cry uncle.

Finally, Dave surprised everyone, including himself, by tapping out of Esposito's near-perfect submission hold. The circle burst into a spontaneous round of applause for both fighters, and three men hurried to help Dave to their feet. Dave held out a hand of respect to the victor. "I'm impressed, Javier. You're a hell of a natural fighter."

"He *should* be a hell of a fighter, though, shouldn't he?" a voice yelled out from the back of the room. "After all, being former Special Forces and one of NYPD's finest gives you a lot more fighting experience than the average guy, doesn't it?"

The group turned around to face the source of the voice. _Guys, _Ryan thought, _it's Mittleman._

_Does he have someone with him? _asked Beckett.

_Yeah, _Esposito replied, _Captain Gates. He's got a gun to her head._

_Gates? _Beckett cursed through the mind-link. Apparently she had decided to follow them to the warehouse and it all went south from there. _Castle, you heard?_

_Yep, _he replied.

_They need you in there, _Beckett ordered. She scanned the room for the place where her wizard would be least likely to be detected. _Pop in to southwest corner of the room, it's darkest over there. And get shields up as soon as you can._

_On it, _Castle responded simply.

_*Including* one on Gates, _Beckett added for clarification.

Castle rolled his eyes even though no one was around to see it. _Of *course*..._

Beckett dive rolled off the roof and snuck into the warehouse through a back entrance. Keeping her weapon drawn, she approached cautiously, listening to the conversation between her team and the gunman as she went.

Ryan was trying to project as much peace and calm into the situation as he could, and while it seemed to be helping Gates, it was doing nothing for Mittleman. "Hey Mad Dog," Ryan suggested quietly, "why don't you put the gun down and we'll work this out like men? In a fight?"

Mittleman shook his head, a move which caused the gun to knock against Gates' temple. "No way, man, no way. This is my time. My time. to exert who I am. To make a name for myself. My time to finally be one of the rock stars of this generation. My time to be a natural...born...killer."

The loud crack of the gun's fire exploded through the air. Irving "Mad Dog" Mittleman, though, was not able to smile at his results. He was in too much pain. Mad Dog looked down, stunned, to see his intestines slowly falling out of the gaping wound left by the bullet he had intended to go through the brains of his hostage.

That image was the last thing he would ever see. Mad Dog collapsed to the ground, dead, surrounded by a writer, three detectives, and one very shell-shocked police captain...who was having trouble understanding why, and more importantly *how*, she was still alive.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys! Couple of quick notes about this chapter: first, it's long. Double length of one of my average chapters, so keep that in mind as you read. And second, I normally try to write this series in a way that each story can stand on its own. Read the disclaimer, get up to speed and jump in. However, that's not the case here. This chapter will make vastly more sense if you've read On the Job Training. It's a crossover with the old TV show "The Sentinel". And that's enough spoilers for you. ;-) Enjoy!**

* * *

Esposito was the last of the 12th Precinct Guardians to show up to work the next morning...a fact that the other three members of the group weren't going to let him live down easily. "Good morning sleepyhead," teased Ryan. "I'm guessing your visit to the doctor went well yesterday?"

"I'm guessing it went *very* well," chimed in Beckett. "In fact, I think I detect the lingering aroma of...pancakes, I believe?"

"Ha ha," replied Esposito, rolling his eyes. "Have you guys been called to face the firing squad yet?"

"Actually," said Castle, "I think she was waiting for..."

"The four of you, in my office, NOW!"

The four people in question didn't need to be clarified. Beckett, Castle, Ryan and Esposito dutifully got up and filed into their captain's office.

"Esposito, close the door," ordered Gates. Once her detective followed her order, Gates began, "Okay, people, there is something very weird going on with the four of you, and I've had it with being out of the loop." She paced the small space behind her desk as she made her case. "First was the SWAT commander telling me that the three of you took out Newmark and his gang of thugs while a dozen of his best men just stood by and watched..."

Ryan tried to correct his Captain's facts. "We had..."

Gates cut Ryan off immediately, continuing without acknowledging him. "*Then* you solved a *Tibetan* guy's murder in *Chinatown* when he was killed by a *Pakistani* man and you only needed a translator for the father's formal confession. Now I've tried to ignore some of the little stuff, like this whole 'Dark Angel' business, because your conviction rates have become the best in the department. But last night I had a *gun* held to my *head* at *point-blank range*. The guy pulled the trigger. I should be *dead*. Instead the bullet *bounced off me* and caused Mittleman's corpse to look like someone shredded his guts in a blender. I can't ignore that. Now is someone going to tell me the *whole* truth, or do I have to put all of you on suspension?"

Ryan opened the mind-link. _Guys, I can't do anything here. She's so angry that it's like I'm hitting a brick wall. I can't even read her beyond how pissed off she is..._

_Think she'll get off out backs if we tell her everything? _asked Beckett.

_Think she'll *believe* us? _asked Castle.

_Do we have a choice anymore? _Esposito sounded resigned to their fate even through the mind-link. _If we don't at least try the truth, we're going to be under investigation by IAB. And the first thing IA would do is revoke Castle's ride-along papers. I'm willing to take my chances._

Beckett turned around and looked at Esposito. _You're sure?_

_What can I say? I've developed a dislike for Kevlar..._Esposito replied with a smirk.

Gates watched the four silent people in front of her. "Okay, first thing's first: what is *that*?"

Now confused, Beckett asked, "What's what, sir?"

"The four of you aren't talking, but those looks you're giving each other...it feels like you're having a whole conversation I can't hear."

"We are, sir," Ryan told her. Gates' fury had subsided just enough to allow Ryan the chance to project into his captain's mind. _Over the timeframe that you mentioned I've developed telepathic abilities, sir. When you don't see us talking it's usually because this is the way we're communicating._

Gates shook her head, unwilling to believe the disconnect between what she was seeing and hearing. "I'm sorry," Gates chuckled in disbelief, "I could have sworn you just told me that you've become telepathic..."

_I did, sir, _Ryan agreed without speaking, _I just didn't *say* it._

Gates' eyes widened. "You're serious?" Ryan nodded.

"We've all developed different abilities, sir," chimed in Beckett.

"You too, Detective?" Beckett nodded. Gates sat at her desk and pulled out a plain manilla folder full of notes and other 'evidence'. She forced herself to try to suspend *all* disbelief as she went over a page labeled "Beckett". When she did, Gates spotted the thread connecting all the questions she had about her renegade detective. "Detective, you said that you took the shot at Mittleman because he was pointing his weapon into the crowd of people at Grenholm's party." Beckett nodded again. "But, he was 200 yards away?" Beckett nodded one more time. "You saw him, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," replied Beckett quietly.

"How many of your senses are...heightened, Detective?"

"All six, sir."

Gates raised an eyebrow at the number. "Six?" The captain dove back into her notes. "At the end of the Schoenweiss case, I went to look for you in the observation room and noticed you talking to yourself in the box. You weren't talking to *yourself*, were you?"

"No, sir," Beckett agreed.

"Dare I ask who you were talking to?"

Beckett hesitated only slightly before answering. "Mark Schoenweiss, sir."

"The *victim*?" Gates' eyes widened only briefly at Beckett's response. "So your sixth sense is the ability to speak to the dead, Detective?"

When Beckett nodded, Gates shifted her focus to Esposito. "What about you, Detective Esposito?"

"I...collect memories, sir," Esposito replied.

Gates pulled a paper out of her folder labeled "Esposito". "I take it those aren't just your own memories, Detective?"

"No, sir," Esposito replied.

Gates went over her notes. "The McMasters case. That's how you knew about the affair, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. When I shake someone's hand I...download all their memories in their life to that point. Including any learned abilities and skills, such as language."

"That's why you didn't need translators during the Chinatown case?" As Esposito nodded, Gates pressed further. "When you...download someone's memories, how far back can you go?"

"Birth, sir."

Gates shook her head in near-disbelief. "Anything else I should know about you three?"

"Just one thing, sir," Beckett told her, "Mittleman and his guys weren't the Dark Angels. They were copycats."

Gates caught on immediately. "And you know this because the real Dark Angels are...?"

Beckett, Ryan and Esposito all raised their hands. Shaking her head, Gates then turned her attention to the one non-cop in the room. "The thing I least understand is where you fit into all of this, Mr. Castle."

Knowing how little Gates respected Castle, Ryan took the initiative in speaking for his friend. "Castle is the reason you're still alive, sir."

*That* threw Gates for a loop. "Mr. Castle is the reason that that bullet didn't kill me?"

"Yes, sir." All three of her detectives were in complete agreement.

"How?"

Castle took the initiative to speak for himself. "I'm a wizard, captain."

Gates shifted fully into denial. "Detectives, I am ordering all of you to undergo drug testing and full psychological eval..."

"I'm sorry, Captain, but no," Castle interrupted her. "This is something that's far too important for you not to believe."

Gates jumped as all of the blinds in her office shuttered closed at the same time, then gasped as the lights went out...even though not a soul in her office had physically moved. Her attention was drawn to a gentle light coming from a point across the desk.

The light source was a single orange and yellow flame, roughly eight inches high, that was dancing just above Castle's outstretched open palm. She found herself strangely attracted to the light, drawn in by her own curiosity. _I'm hallucinating, _thought Gates, _that has to be it. They were making some sort of drug in that warehouse, and I inhaled too many of those fumes, and I'm hallucinating..._

Gates drew in a sharp breath through clenched teeth as she discovered, painfully, that the flame was, indeed, very real. Castle killed the flame and turned the lights back on as Gates cradled her injured hand.

Ryan sent a quick warning through the mind-link. _Lanie, we need your help. Gates is injured._

In the morgue, Lanie pulled the gloves off her hands and turned off the tape recorder. As she went to lock the door to her lab, Lanie sent back, _What's Castle's ETA?_

_En route, _replied Ryan. Castle disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Castle then reappeared in the spot he had left...but he did not return alone. Gates simply stared open-mouthed at the new person in the room.

Lanie took in the scene surrounding her. As she knelt down to Gates' level, Lanie asked the group, "Does she know?"

"We were trying to tell her," replied Esposito.

Lanie glared up at the man next to her. "Then this was Castle's doing, I take it?" Lanie shook her head as Castle looked away, blushing; she then returned her attention to her patient, taking note of the blisters forming on the captain's palm. "These are some impressive burns, captain. But don't worry, this will only take a minute."

Gates watched, awestruck, as the blisters on her hands shrank, then disappeared, and then finally as the burns themselves faded away to nothing. She rubbed her hands together, flexing her fingers and confirming that everything had, indeed, healed. The captain then looked into the eyes of the woman who had healed her. "Doctor Parrish? You're a part of this, as well?" Lanie nodded. Gates then turned to one of her detectives, connecting another two dots together. "Detective Esposito, when you said you were heading to a doctor after that fight in the box, you were going to see Doctor Parrish, weren't you? That's why you walked into that warehouse last fully healed and ready to fight? And why you don't have a mark on you this morning?" Esposito nodded.

The captain's mind was rapidly being overwhelmed as she tried to process everything she had seen and heard. One last puzzle piece, though, was fighting to click itself into place. "I have a couple of friends at OEM," Gates began. "About a month before the Schoenweiss case, they were telling me about this day they called Ash Friday. Apparently 911 crashed five times as the system overloaded. A third of the calls were about zombies taking over 34th Street...but the rest were describing a cataclysmic series of events that had just about destroyed much of midtown. A few crackpots even went so far as to say that three dragons were chewing up the city. Anyway, when the fire trucks got there, there was *nothing*. The place was pretty much deserted, but there was *zero* damage. No fires, nothing. To this day Ash Friday is on record as the day of the most recorded false alarm calls in the history of 911. But those people weren't lying, were they? That was you guys?"

The five people in the room nodded. Beckett told her captain, "Castle restored everything back to what it had been before the battle started. He's been protecting us and protecting the city like that ever since. That...protection is what stopped that bullet today. The bullet ricocheted off of one of Castle's energy shields and hit your shooter in the gut. That's why he's dead and you're not, sir."

Gates' mind finally succumbed to mental and emotional overload. Getting up from the desk, she slowly walked over to her coat rack. As she put on her coat, she announced to the group without looking at any of them, "I'm going to take the rest of the day off. I suggest the rest of you do the same. If anyone but me can remember this conversation tomorrow, then we'll discuss our options at that time."

The captain walked out of her office and out of the precinct, leaving a stunned group in her wake. Beckett was the first to find her voice again. "Well, that didn't go well."

"Suggestions?" Castle asked the group.

Ryan's reply was quiet and enigmatic. "I think I have an idea..."

* * *

In Cascade, Washington, Detective Jim Ellison picked up the phone on his desk without looking at the called ID. "Ellison."

"Jim? It's Kevin Ryan from New York."

Ellison recognized the voice even before he identified himself. "Ryan!" Jim greeted the fellow cop with a smile. "How are things at the 12th?"

Ryan hesitated, trying to decide how to word what he was going to say next. "Actually...we could use your help with something out here. Captain Gates found out about us."

Ellison winced, remembering the absolutely no-nonsense boss that his Guardian friends had to deal with every day. "I take it she's not handling it well?"

"How'd you guess?"

"She didn't seem like the type who would," replied Ellison with a small chuckle. "What do you need from me?"

"Does your boss...know about you?"

"He does," replied Ellison. "I was forced to tell him early on."

Ryan asked, "How'd he take it?"

"Better than I thought he would. He may be the main reason Sandburg's still able to work as my partner."

"Do you think he'd mind talking to our captain? You guys can tell him all about us if it'll help.

Ellison hesitated. "Simon's not the type to believe without evidence. I think I might have an idea, though. Can you have Castle call me in a couple of hours?"

"Sure," Ryan replied. "Thanks for your help."

Jim hung up the phone and looked up into the curious face of his partner. "What was that all about, Jim?" asked Blair.

"They need help with something in New York," Jim replied casually.

"So Castle's coming to," Blair asked in a whisper, finding no other way to euphemize it, "pick us up?"

Jim shook his head as he got up from his desk. "Not us. Simon."

Blair's eyes widened as he realized the only reason the Guardians would be asking for help from their captain. "You mean Captain Gates...?"

"Yep. C'mon chief, we need to invite Simon to lunch."

* * *

Simon watched his troublesome top team carefully as they finished up their meal. "Okay you two, what's going on?"

Jim and Blair looked at each other for what must have been the thirtieth time since Simon had arrived. "What do you mean, Simon?" asked Blair.

"Oh please, you've been using your eyes to point fingers at each other all throughout lunch. It's like you have something you need to tell me but you can't figure out who's going to do the talking. You're not getting married, are you?"

Both men shuddered at the thought. "Ugh, no," exclaimed Jim.

"Then what the hell is it?"

Blair finally seemed to decide that he needed to be the one to do the talking. "Do you remember that case we helped out on in New York?"

Simon nodded, understanding immediately why they were so hesitant. "You said it was a Sentinel thing, I remember that much."

"Um...it wasn't *just* a Sentinel thing, Simon," added Blair.

_Great. _Simon could already feel the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. He hated it when things got weird. _It's starting to annoy me how often that happens..._"Whatever *it* is, is it coming here, or are you guys going to have to go back to New York?"

"Actually Simon, *we* may not be going anywhere," Jim replied, "but I have a feeling you may need to be the one to go to New York."

"*Me*? Why me?"

Jim didn't answer his boss' question. Instead, he picked up his cell phone and dialed the number he was keeping on hand for this purpose. "Rick? It's Jim. We're ready when you are."

Castle and Ryan arrived in the loft before Jim had a chance to put his phone back down on the table. Simon recognized Castle immediately, staring at the man in disbelief. He then turned back to his friends. "Okay, one of you want to tell me how the hell a world-famous crime novelist just mysteriously appeared in your living room?"

* * *

Victoria Gates was wallowing. And she knew it. For the first time since she had signed up for the police academy, she was *dreading* having to go into work the next day. Normally, Gates knew that there wasn't a thing that could happen within the walls of a precinct that she wasn't fully prepared to handle.

Until today.

When she found out her senior detective and top two junior detectives were now superheroes.

The bottle of scotch stood patiently on her end table, waiting for her to open it up and pour herself a drink. Or two. Or as many as it took to mute her thoughts in a haze of alcohol. Gates reached for the bottle, but was stopped by a knock on her apartment door. _Who the hell would be coming to talk to me at this..._

Of course. The last men in the world she could possibly want to talk to. "Detective Ryan, Mister Castle," Gates spat out angrily, "what the hell are you two doing outside my apartment?"

Ryan replied, "I...I couldn't help but notice that you were having a hard time dealing with our last conversation, sir." Gates started to close the door on him, but Ryan held the door closed to stop her from doing so. "I figured you might want to talk to someone about it."

"You, Detective? Not hardly."

Gates started to push harder to get the door closed, but Ryan had wedged himself firmly against the doorframe in a position where it would be next to impossible for her to forcibly remove him. "No, sir. Not me."

It was then that Gates realized that there was a third man in the hallway, one that she didn't recognize. He was tall, half a head taller than even Castle, but was in great shape for his age and exuded the confidence that came from being in a position of leadership for a long time. However, Gates was so annoyed at the events of the day and the interruption to her evening that she was in no mood to be polite, no matter how attractive the man in front of her might be. "And who might you be?"

"Captain Gates? I don't know if you remember me. I'm..."

Gates cut Simon off, recognizing his voice immediately. Her demeanor softened only slightly as she replied, "Captain Banks? You're Jim Ellison's CO in Cascade." Simon nodded, and Gates continued, "What are you doing here? In New York? With *these two*?"

"We brought him here to talk with you, Captain," replied Ryan. "I figured it might be helpful if you had the chance to talk to someone who is in a situation...similar to yours."

Gates rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Exactly *how* are Captain Banks and I in a similar situation, Detective?"

Simon decided he should be the one to get the ball rolling so the other two men could just get the hell out of his way. "Captain Gates, Jim has similar...sensitivities, so I was told, to your Detective Beckett."

Gates turned in surprise to the other captain, finally starting to understand *why* her people had called in the out-of-town help. "You're familiar with our...situation?"

Simon nodded, completely understanding the need for euphemisms...and respecting the fact that Gates still cared enough about her people to be using them. "They told me this afternoon...or at least, this afternoon Cascade time. And on that front, you apparently have me outnumbered 5 to 1. I don't envy you in the slightest, Captain."

Gates turned to her detective, who was continuing to block her doorframe. "Will you two be joining us, detective?"

Ryan shook his head. "I figured you'd be more comfortable talking in private. Captain Banks will call us when he's ready to leave."

Gates eyed Ryan and Castle suspiciously. "Do I even want to know?"

It was only then that Castle spoke up. "I'm Captain Banks' 'ride', Captain."

Gates pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep the stress headache that had been building most of the day from getting worse. "I'll take that as a no, Mr. Castle." She then cleared the door to allow the man she actually *wanted* to talk to to have access to her apartment, "Come in, Captain Banks. Detective, Mr. Castle, I will see you when we've finished."

The two Guardians blinked out of the hallway, which left Simon and Gates alone to talk. As Simon entered the apartment, Gates closed the door with a weary sigh. "Can I get you a drink, Captain?"

Simon noticed the bottle and clean glass sitting on the end table. "Got another glass for that scotch, Captain?"

"Might as well call me Victoria at this point," Gates replied, "Would you like ice?"

"Straight's fine. And you can call me Simon."

Gates went to her small kitchen and returned with a second glass. Bringing the first glass and the bottle over to her dining table, she poured two glasses and offered one to Simon, taking the seat across from him. "So, Simon...how long have you known about Mr. Ellison's abilities?"

Having been given permission by his men to talk to Gates freely, Simon replied, "Going on three years, now."

"So you *have* been around this block a few times. And Mr. Sandburg? Is he...?"

Simon shook his head with a chuckle. "No. Mostly his specialty is being a giant pain in my ass."

"I've got one of those, too," Gates added with her own small chuckle.

"Castle?"

Gates nodded. "He's been 'observing' Detective Beckett going on four years now. At first his excuse was to get inspired for his books."

Simon put two and two together quickly. "The Nikki Heat books..."

"Are loosely based on Detective Beckett, yes. I've always figured that he was just using his friendship with the mayor to hang out with his girlfriend."

"Castle and Beckett...?"

Gates nodded. "Although they'll only admit to me that they've been in a relationship since June or so."

Simon was impressed. "They've been awfully quiet about it, apparently."

"That's one of the few things I've respected about him. What about your Mr. Sandburg?"

"Sandburg originally tried to get me to let him 'observe' Jim for his Anthropology doctoral dissertation. At first he tried to tell me his subject was going to be the thin blue line."

"And you bought that? That sounds, well, lame..."

Simon shook his head. "I found out shortly after that that his *real* subject was Jim's abilities."

"How long had they been working together at that point?"

Simon finished off his glass and poured himself another. "A week, I think."

"And now? It's been three years, shouldn't he have finished that dissertation already?"

"He did," replied Simon, with the slightest hint of pride. "It got accepted a couple of months ago. We just hired *Dr.* Sandburg as a department consultant."

*That* surprised Gates. "Does Detective Ellison really need that much help?"

"I don't pretend to understand the dynamic between them," Simon replied, "I just know it works. According to what they once told me, a Sentinel..."

Gates found herself trying to handle yet another unfamiliar concept. "Sentinel?"

"A person with five heightened senses. That's Jim, although it's not Detective Beckett, if I'm remembering what your people told me correctly...anyway, a Sentinel always needs to be paired with a guide who's been trained in how to help his Sentinel maximize the use of his abilities. That's the main thing Blair does for Jim."

"The main thing?"

Simon replied, "When I told you they were my best team, I meant it. Blair even turned around his entire dissertation in *six months* when he realized that keeping the focus on Jim's abilities would risk their safety. The only difference between Blair and the other men in my division is that Blair didn't go through academy training. Well, that and the hair. But other than that he's as much of a cop as any of my men."

Gates swallowed down the rest of her own drink and poured her refill, giving her some time to ponder the other captain's loyalty to someone who wasn't a cop.

"What about Castle?" Simon asked when he realized his talk about Sandburg seemed to have hit a nerve.

"I had heard stories before I came into the command at the 12th: how he was helpful in closing cases even when his theories sounded crazy, how he'd saved the city from that bomber, how he's the best partner Beckett's ever had, how much better a detective he's made *her*..."

Simon caught the thread between her comments. "Sounds like you didn't think much of him *or* Beckett."

"She was recovering from a gunshot wound to the chest when I took over the precinct. The previous captain was someone that apparently everyone seemed to consider a friend...*especially* Richard Castle. My first act as captain was to kick Castle out of my precinct. He pushed his way back in at the mayor's behest when Beckett came back from leave."

"So they were a package deal from the moment you met her..." Simon remembered what Sarah Finkelmann had told him of her initial, highly unflattering impressions of Blair Sandburg...and how Blair had proven her wrong. "Have you been able to evaluate her without Castle hanging around?"

Gates nodded. "I had heard so much hype around her because of the whole Nikki Heat thing. I was sure there was no way she could live up to that hype...but she did."

"What about Castle?"

"What about him?" asked Gates.

Simon asked, "Have you given Castle the chance to prove to you that he could live up to the hype surrounding *him*?"

Gates took the time to consider her answer carefully. "I guess I haven't."

"What about your men? How do they treat Castle?"

Reluctantly, Gates admitted, "Like he's one of them."

"And now this team of superheroes has popped up right under your nose and this non-cop whose presence you're barely tolerating is a fundamental part of that team," Simon told her. He took a sip of his drink before making his point. "Victoria, I took a chance on Sandburg at first because *Jim* trusted him. And Blair's proven himself a hundred times over. Your team all trusts Castle. If you trust *them*, then maybe you need to give Castle that same chance."

* * *

"Thanks for making breakfast, Castle," said Esposito through a mouthful of eggs.

"Yeah, thanks," Ryan agreed, slightly disgusted at his partner's total lack of table manners. "So are you gonna tell us why you called all of us over here for a breakfast meeting?"

Castle took a sip of his coffee before answering. "I didn't call this meeting, guys."

"I did," said the commanding voice behind them.

Beckett, Lanie, Esposito and Ryan all stood up when they recognized the voice, Ryan and Esposito swallowing their mouthfuls of breakfast before acknowledging her with various choruses of "ma'am" and "sir".

"You can all take your seats," Gates told them. She walked around the kitchen island until she could take the cup of coffee that Castle offered her. Taking a sip, Gates put down the cup and began, "I asked for this meeting to be here at Mr. Castle's apartment because after yesterday's...revelations, I figured you all would be more comfortable discussing this...business outside of the precinct."

Gates took a deep breath and let it out slowly, knowing how hard her first order was going to be for the group to hear. "I am revoking Mr. Castle's observer status, effective immediately."

Sure enough, Ryan was the only one not to launch into a flurry of protest. In contrast, *he* was the one who calmed the group down, even handing back to Beckett the badge she was about to give up for a second time. Ryan insisted to the group, "Guys! Let. Her. Finish."

The group was still angry, but went quiet after each person slowly recognized that if Ryan wasn't angry, it had to be because he *knew* something.

Gates handed a yellow envelope to Castle. "These should keep you busy most of the morning, but you'll need to return those papers to me when you're finished."

Castle opened the envelope and tried to start flipping through the papers, clearly confused. "Captain?"

Gates' reply was simple and straightforward. "Mr. Castle, in that envelope is the paperwork to change your status from observer to official, full-time department consultant. One of the main reasons I don't like you, Mr. Castle, is your over-willingness to throw around your relationship with the Mayor in order to get and keep a spot in my precinct. However, as a wise man pointed out to me last night...my people trust you with their lives, Mr. Castle. Because I trust *them*, I want to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of that spot. However, I have two conditions that you must agree to meet before I'll agree to this new arrangement."

"What are they...sir?" asked Castle.

Gates directed her reply to both Castle and Beckett. "Detective Beckett, while I respect the discretion with which you and Mr. Castle have conducted your romantic relationship so far, I now have to insist on that discretion. You know the department's policies on fraternization, detective. If so much as a word about your relationship is breathed to Page Six, I'm going to be *forced* to fire Mr. Castle, and probably the lot of you along with him. Is that clear?"

"Clear, sir," replied Beckett.

"The second thing," continued Gates, "Mr. Castle, is that I want you to list paranormal investigations as a field of expertise. From what you've all told me you've been extremely discreet about how you've handled your...situation so far. However, even you can't be everywhere at once. If other precincts find themselves in need of a more...unusual level of help, I want to give them a way to find you."

"Yes, sir," agreed Castle.

Gates finished her coffee and handed the mug back to her host. "In that case, detectives, Dr. Parrish, Mr. Castle, I will see all of you at the precinct."

The captain walked out of the loft and closed the door, smiling as she recognized the sounds of amazement and even a little celebration on the other side of the door. Sure that Ryan was still reading her mind, Gates thought,_Well, Detective Ryan, how'd I do?_

She heard a familiar voice laughing in her mind in response. _Captain, I think this is a first. You've rendered Castle completely speechless._

* * *

**That's all, folks! Hope you guys have enjoyed it. But whether you like it or not, please leave comments! The series will continue soon with _Four Winds: Moonrise Kingdom._  
**


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